


the matchstick, still burning

by anonymousAlchemist



Series: External Phylacteries [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, F/M, I think?, a nonlinear love story, barry and lup try their best to fix stuff without their memories, cause thats a really interesting place to take things, if lup had been embodied while having voidfish amnesia?, you ever wonder about what would have happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 09:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11848743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousAlchemist/pseuds/anonymousAlchemist
Summary: Here is what she remembers. Hands holding hers, she's young, she's stirring a pot and a soft voice is telling her, "Yes, like that," and it is warm, and she's happy because a grown-up is praising her, and somewhere there are footsteps and a distant voice laughing and calling her name, and she knows that voice,  she knows her name, it's —And then it's gone. Memory fades, the half-snatched whispers of thought dissolving into static. Who was the woman? Who was laughing?or: Lup embodied, with voidfish amnesia.





	the matchstick, still burning

**Author's Note:**

> even weirder than the last one!  
> man, i don't even know. enjoy?

10.

Here is what she remembers. Hands holding hers, she's young, she's stirring a pot and a soft voice is telling her, "Yes, like that," and it is warm, and she's happy because a grown-up is praising her, and somewhere there are footsteps and a distant voice laughing and calling her name, and she knows that voice,  she knows her name, it's —

And then it's gone. Memory fades, the half-snatched whispers of thought dissolving into static. Who was the woman? Who was laughing? 

 

2\. 

"No, babe," Lup says, laughing. "You're doing it all wrong." 

"What am I doing?" Barry asks, exasperated. He's got a smudge of chocolate on his cheek. 

"Just, everything!" Lup says, reaching to wipe it off. "Here, let me show you." She takes the whisk from him, and reaches around him to stir, folding the batter in on itself without collapsing the beaten egg-whites. Taako's better at that than she is, Lup thinks, but she's still pretty good. 

"Like that," she says, "gently," and hands him back the whisk. Barry takes it from her and starts stirring.  

"No, not like that, _gently."_ She plucks the whisk back from his hand.  "Stupid," Lup says playfully, bumping Barry's hip with her own.

"Hey," he says. "Uncalled for!"

"You're right, you're not stupid, babe, you're the smartest guy I know," Lup says, smiling tilted. Barry smiles back. He catches her free hand with his, and pulls her toward him, against the countertop. 

"Thought you were the smartest, Lu," he says, his face very close to hers, as familiar as her own, she knows it by sight and by touch — dark nights, wandering hands, play-slap-fights that end in giggles and cuddling. She leans into him so that they're nose to nose. 

"I'm not a guy," Lup says smugly. "If I said _people_ , well," and Barry laughs and kisses her. His glasses bump against her nose. It's great. This is something she never expected, Lup was nobody meant for this and yet here she is, here they are.

How delightful, she thinks, how strange. She wants to hold onto this forever, Lup Taaco-Bluejeans, she thinks. Barry Taaco-Bluejeans, and isn't that a helluva mouthful of a name? 

 

6\. 

She wakes up and she is nobody. 

There is a man on the bed next to her, face slack, breathing deep. He's naked, but utterly unconcerned in his unconsciousness. She leans over him. He's got the beginnings of laugh-lines and the suggestion of a crease in his forehead — he's too young for that, she thinks. He must worry a lot. There are indentations on his nose where glasses must sit. Nerd, she thinks, and it's affectionate. Why is it affectionate? 

She doesn't know who this man is. Why was she in a bed next to him? Were they fucking? It doesn't feel like they had sex. Who is he? Who is she? There's no mirror at hand, so she can't look at her own reflection. Why does she not remember what she looks like? She looks down at her hands. Old scars, little pockmark burns. She must work with her hands, she thinks. Looking at her body gives her a sense of satisfaction. She wonders why. She must be vain, she thinks, and that thought amuses her. Who wouldn't be vain, when you're built like she is?

She looks back at the man. He has a nice dick, but the rest of his body is unremarkable. He has a nice face. He looks like he's older than her, but she's probably three times his age. He's human. She’s an elf. It's hard to compete. He shifts a little, and mumbles something in his sleep. There's a pile of clothes at the foot of his bed. 

It feels good to see him at peace. She wonders why. This is familiar, she thinks, but she does not remember—. 

 

4\. 

"So what's the plan, how've you been playin' this so far?" 

"I mean, I've mostly been searching for you. And now you're here, so, well. I didn't think further than that. Um. I think maybe following up on 'Creesh is our best bet, because for the past couple of years, she's been building this sort of, this organization? And it looks like the guys are, er, maybe going to work for it now?" 

"Ch'yeah. You mentioned minions, what's up with that? Sounds like third-rate pulp fiction, babe." 

"Lu, I have, I have absolutely no idea. I _assume_ she's trying to find the rest of the relics and gather them together, do her whole barrier plan. I keep seeing these people wearing these armbands, and they keep going places that nobody should be at." 

"Oh shit, that ain't good. Well yeah, that's our first priority, then. Might be a good idea to stop Johnny Tentavore from waltzing into this reality, if she's bringing 'em together." 

"Ha, er, yeah. And I haven't been able to figure out why she wants them, you know? 'Creesh has got the place warded against necromancy, pretty much, I tried to get into the erm, her _moonbase_ , and I sort of just. Bounced off." 

"Bounced off? _AHAHA!"_

"Lup, please." 

"Sorry, it's just, well, babe, you gotta admit it's at least a little funny. You bounced off the moon!" 

"Lu." 

"C'mon, you're smiling, I can tell." 

"I'm a skeleton, I'm always smiling when I'm a skeleton. That's how skulls work." 

"Nah, I can tell, babe. Lup knows what's up. But, okay, well, then we gotta go in with meat suits, huh? 'Cept she'll recognize both o' us." 

"She doesn't know that you're back, though. 

"Ooh! Am I our secret weapon?" 

"Sort of, I guess. We could overshadow some employees, I guess. That's what I was planning on doing." 

"Luce knows you can do that, though." 

"I didn't have many resources, I was working with — actually. Hm. Hey hon?" 

"Yeah?" 

"How's your Taako impression, these days?" 

 

7\. 

"What should I call you?" Barry says, Barry whose voice told her that he loved her, Barry, shirtless and staring at her like she could disappear at any moment, like she’s something fragile to be handled with care. This annoys her, and oh, she’s someone who doesn’t want to be treated like she’s precious. She shrugs. 

"Iunno," she says. "Heh, what if I ganked your mom's name. Marlene." 

"Way too Freudian," Barry shudders. "Don't even joke." 

"Just kiddin', babe," she says. “It doesn’t fit right, anyway. You got any ideas?” 

“Not really. It’d be weird for me to name you, I think,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Pick something you like the sound of, I guess? You should choose.” That’s nice of him to say, she thinks. But it doesn’t solve the problem of a name. Rachel, Sydnee, Teresa, she thinks. No, no, no. Maybe something from a book? Matilda, Anne, Clare. No. She shakes her head. 

"Nothing fits," she says. “Just don’t call me anything, I guess. I’m Nobody!” 

“I’m not doing that,” Barry says firmly. “You’re a person, you need a name.” 

“Do I?” she asks. 

I’m just borrowing this body, she thinks, before the me with memories is back. 

 

15\. 

“ -͞_̶͠͏-̨ ? ” 

The worst thing about it, she thinks, is how close she was. She got past the traps, the weird orb puzzle, and sure she tripped the alarm, but she thought she had enough time before someone came to investigate. But no, she got caught, just as she was examining the office. She isn’t sure whether she should greet the person. It’s probably the Director? Who else could it be? Who’s  -͞_̶͠͏-̨ ? S’all static. 

“ -͞_̶͠͏-̨ ?” The voice is hesitant, wondering. 

In the background, the coin perks up and starts droning more instructions, but she can’t think about two things at once, and she’s been caught and there’s no help for it. She makes an executive decision. Whoever the fuck ‘ -͞_̶͠͏-̨ ’ is, guess she’s her, now. She turns. Yup. It’s the Director of the Bureau of Balance — the desciption fits to a T. White hair, dark skin, holding a white staff tightly in her hands. 

“Yes,” she says, “hi?” 

“ -͞_̶͠͏-̨ , you’re back,” the Director says, as if she is a gift. 

“Um, yeah,” she says, and she’s not sure what else to say. “I’m back?” 

The Director pauses, eyes narrowing. 

“Wait, what do you remember? Why are you here?” 

“Uh,” she says, thrown by the question. How can the Director know about her amnesia? The Director doesn’t give her time to answer, gaze zeroing in on the still-speaking coin. 

“Oh,” the Director says. “That’s very smart. I know what you’re here for.” 

“Um,” she says, because she hadn’t been listening to the coin and she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. She starts edging away from the Director, who has begun to lower the staff to point it at her. What does she do now? 

“I can’t let you do this,  -͞_̶͠͏-̨ . Not right now,”  the Director says, and her voice is steady and sorrowful and how the hell does she know how to interpret the Director’s tone of voice? “Listen, it won’t be for long, I promise. And I’m so, so glad that you’re alright.” 

The strangest thing is that the Director seems to mean it. That’s small comfort when she can see the Director beginning to charge some sort of spell at the end of the staff. And she has a wand and a knife and she could cast fireball, the spell is on the tip of her tongue, and she could blast the woman and run like all hell and maybe she’d get out safe. 

But the coin said not to hurt the Director. The coin said to die before capture. 

“Stay right there,  -͞_̶͠͏-̨ ,” the Director says softly. “I love you. This won’t hurt a bit.” 

 

8\. 

“What if the coin is lying?” Barry says. They’ve taken a room in an inn on the way to Goldcliff. Barry had bought the room with some of the cash from the knapsack they’d found in the cave. They’ve been sleeping rough, the past few nights, and they’re both excited for the prospects of a shower and a mattress. The room is serviceable, nicer than some other places she’s been, she thinks, and wonders where else she’s been that she can think that. She tries to remember. Nothing is there. 

Barry had asked for separate beds, when buying the room. 

She shrugs. “If the coin’s lying, it’s lying. I ain’t got nowhere else to be,” she says. She laughs. 

“What if we’re not actually in love, though? Wouldn’t that be funny?” 

“We don’t have to stay together, if you don’t want to,” Barry says, as if to apologize for his existence. 

“I want to,” she says, “I think the coin is telling the truth,” and she realizes that it’s not just placation, that she means it. She feels like she’s always playing catch-up, her mouth speaking before her brain realizes something, as if she’s a wind-up-puppet with pre-programmed reactions, call and response, her emotions the remnant of somebody else who is no longer home. 

“Okay,” Barry says, “Okay, that’s good.” 

“Yeah,” she says. She wonders that they’re in love when he’s too nervous to even share a bed with her. “Sit next to me,” she asks. 

“Okay,” Barry says, and gets up off his bed, and onto hers, near enough that she can feel heat radiate from his skin. 

“Does it bother you?” Barry asks abruptly. “Not being able to remember, I mean.”  

“It probably should,” she admits. “But I can’t really bring myself to care, y’know? S’like, you know, you can’t care about a thing unless you know about it, and I don’t know about it.” 

“Oh,” Barry says. “Cause, I think it’d bug me, uh, a lot. It’s really bugging me a lot, right now, that I can’t remember stuff, or you. It’s really bugging me that I can’t remember you.” 

“Don’t get me wrong, babe, I’m desperately curious,” she assures him, and as she says it, she realizes that it’s true. She wants to know her coin-self, the woman who sounded so assured of who she is and where she stands. Not that she’s insecure, but right now it’s like yanking open drawer after drawer of personality: she doesn’t know who she is until she does, and then it’s gone again. It’s like she’s peeling back layer after layer of gauze, wrapped around her heart and mind and voice. And as  soon as she grasps a piece of who she is, what she knows, it disappears. This isn’t a normal amnesia, she thinks. 

“Hey hon?” Barry says, and she blinks. She realizes she’s been staring into space. She wonders if she was so scattershot before. What’s she missing? What _isn’t_ she missing. 

“Hi,” she says. “I’m here.” 

“Okay,” he says, “Hey, can I?” and he begins to put an arm around her shoulders. 

“Yeah.” She closes her eyes, and she feels the weight of his arm across her body. It feels good. 

She wants to know how her coin-self is able talk about this man like their love is a certainty, she wants to know why when she looks at him, something about Barry’s dumb face, his dumb body, something about his dumb self makes her happy. 

He seems so normal, she thinks, as she lets her head rest on his shoulder, against the side of his head. 

And yet.

 

1\. 

“Guess who got la-id,” Lup sings, sauntering into the apartment, carrying a bottle that used to be filled with rum, now a fourth filled with vodka and orange juice. “And I stole his screwdriver, too.” 

“Up top, my dude,” Taako says, without looking away from his book. “Gimme some of that sweet stolen liquor.” 

Lup obligingly hands him the bottle, and Taako takes a drink and makes a face. He hands it back.

“That’s garbage tier. Didja fuck the nerd?” 

“What nerd?” 

“You know, that guy you were talkin’ with, at that table, with that bottle that you took.” She looks down at the bottle, remembers the awkward man with the glasses whose name she hadn’t caught. 

“Oh, no, not him. I hooked up with Reed, you know, from QSA.” 

“Bi Reed or trans Reed?” 

“Trans Reed,” Lup says, swinging around the couch to sit next to her brother. 

“Again?” Taako asks, scooting over a bit. “You datin’ him, or something?” 

Lup wrinkles her nose. “Gross, no. It’s just fuckin’.” 

“Hey kid, Taako’s just sayin’, this is like, the fourth time you’ve hooked up with him.” 

“I’m hooking up with him cause it doesn’t matter,” Lup says, knowing that Taako will understand, and even if he doesn’t understand, he’ll let it go. They’re both like that, all in or not at all, it matters a lot or it doesn’t matter, and if it matters they’ll both pretend like hell that it doesn’t. And nothing in Lup’s life has been constant, except Taako. So nothing has mattered. 

“Okay,” Taako says. Lup takes a sip of her drink and glances at her brother. 

“Hey, so didja finish your application for the Starblaster mission?” 

“Not yet,” Taako says. “Stop gettin’ on my butt about it, I’ll do it, I’ll do it.” 

“Fuckin’ hells, ‘Ko, it’s due _tomorrow_ , and I can’t send mine without yours!” Lup complains. “Just copy mine, and change every time I write ‘evocation’ to ‘transmutation.’” 

“Jeez, alright.” Lup pokes Taako’s cheek. He makes another face. “Geddoff, Lulu.” 

“Not leaving without you, baby bro. Finish your shit.” 

“We’re twins!” 

“And I’m older,” Lup ruffles Taako’s hair condescendingly. She hauls herself off the couch and goes to take a shower. “Love you!” 

 

12\. 

The adventurers come to town a couple of months after Barry and her arrive in Goldcliff. They’re are lucky to spot them, having snagged a shift together in the middle of the day. They’re on their lunch break, which they’re even luckier to get, considering the catastrophe happening in the middle of the Trust. 

The adventurers literally walk right past them. 

“The coin was right,” Barry says, and he doesn’t sound surprised, he sounds reassured, thankful that they hadn’t been misled. 

“Ch’yeah,” she says. “Guess our past-selves know what’s up.” 

They watch the three men talk to Captain Captain Bane. There’s the big one, the one with the hat, and the shorty. Magnus, Taako, and Merle, the briefing that they had written themselves had read. Fighter, wizard, cleric. All super-competent, all very good people. The briefing had called them family. It doesn’t feel like anything, when she watches them. Barry whistles.

 

“Shit, I guess we know which one’s the one that looks like you,” Barry says. “That’s obvious.” 

“I don’t see it,” she says, squinting. Barry turns to her, eyebrows raised. 

“Seriously?” 

“I mean, I guess it’s gotta be the elf, right? Rule of elimination and whatever. But I can’t say that he looks like me,” she says. She catalogues his features. Pretty eyes, pretty hair, high cheekbones, gap teeth. It doesn’t coalesce, is the thing. She’s got gap teeth and high cheekbones too, she thinks? But when she thinks about how she looks, it doesn’t coalesce either, everything whiting out static when she tries to think about herself too much. 

“Prosopagnosia,” Barry says. 

“You think I’ve got face-blindness,” she says, surprised. “Really?”  

“He’s your mirror image, hon,” Barry says, quietly. “The two of you could be twins. You probably _are_ twins.” 

She watches the elf some more. He’s swinging his wand around, punctuating a point. He’s gesticulating wildly about something, and maybe Barry’s right, maybe there should be something familiar in his movements. 

“I don’t see it,” she confesses. Barry places a hand on her shoulder, and she wonders why he felt compelled to do that. 

A crackling in Barry’s pocket breaks the moment. Barry hastily pulls out the coin, which is just beginning to speak. Her voice floats up from it. 

“Okay, so now that you’ve met your targets on the ground, the two of you are gonna go splits for a bit, Barry, you’re gonna be following the guys, and  -͞_̶͠͏-̨ , you’re gonna be ganking their transport. So here’s what we want ya to do...” 

 

17\. 

Here is what the moment of death feels like: You are hot, and then you are cold. Heart pumping, then no heart at all. 

Here is what the moment of death feels like: You’re flying through the air, ward rejecting you, flesh toppling to the ground beneath you and the woman you now recognize as one of your oldest friends is holding your body cradled to her chest and her face is contorted in anguish and here she is reaching for your spectral form and you are you again, you feel your history spiraling out, and you have a name and she’s shouting it at you — 

_“LUP!”_

 

5\. 

-͞_̶͠͏-̨ : Alright, kids, now that we're done with introductions, this is where the real fun begins. 

BB: You've got two main goals, guys. First, you're going to be infiltrating the Bureau of Balance— 

-͞_̶͠͏-̨ : —and you're going to be keeping an eye on a few adventurers, making sure that they're safe. They're working for the Bureau, so you'll be killing two birds with one stone by getting your asses up there. Or, well, one ass, at least. 

BB: Lu, your  -͟͠_̢ - ͘ _̵̡_̴͞-̴*͏̶̨ . is one of them, and you're going to break in by disguising yourself as him. 

-͞_̶͠͏-̨ : Will that go through, babe? 

BB: I don't know. Um. Okay, if that was staticked, then, uh, hopefully this isn't. Lup, you look close enough to one of the adventurers that if you wear a wig and a binder and similar clothing, you’ll pass for him, even in front of people who know him. So that’s how we’re going to get you on the moonbase. 

-͞_̶͠͏-̨ : And if you're wondering why we're not using minor illusion, got one word for ya, babes: wards like hella. The Director of the Bureau, who almost never leaves the moonbase, she’s an Abjuration specialist, so that’s why we’re kickin’ it old school. 

BB: And, uh, so the main challenge is going to be making it onto the moon – you’re probably going to have to steal one of the moonbase’s ships, when it lands. 

-͞_̶͠͏-̨ : And here’s some extra incentive, m’dudes. On the moonbase, that’s where you’re going to find the stuff that erased your memory, and the stuff for how to get it back. 

BB: Right. And getting to that is high priority. I know this doesn’t mean anything to you now, but trust us. Trust yourselves? It’s, it’s real important. 

-͞_̶͠͏-̨ : You’ll be fine, my guys. You’re _very_ good at your jobs. 

BB: In the short term, there’s a knapsack with some money and some things you might find useful — sorry we didn’t have any time to grab you clothes, Lu. But grab that, head to the nearest town, and start reconnoitering for the guys you’re supposed to be tracking. Maybe take a adventuring gig — look for anything that seems like it has weird magic-related things, I guess? 

-͞_̶͠͏-̨ : Hey Barr, what if we send ‘em to Goldcliff? Didn’t Merle’s thing end up around there? 

BB: Oh, that’s not a bad idea. Yeah. Check out Goldcliff. I think, I think the guy in charge of the police there is working for Lucretia, er, I mean, the Director. 

-͞_̶͠͏-̨ : We’ve left written instructions, too, about what we know about the Bureau and the people you’re going to be tracking, and this coin will periodically update you. So you’ve got pretty much everything you need, babes. Good luck!

BB: Godspeed, you two. You’re going to do great. 

 

12\. 

The coin gives her extra instructions while they’re flying. 

“If anyone asks you why you’re there, say  you just forgot a piece of magic junk, and you’ll be grabbing it quickie and getting outta here, no sweat,” the coin says in her voice. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she says to the coin, as if it can hear her. “Thanks for being cryptic, dumbass.” 

“If the Director stops you, she’s, uh, not going to be as easily fooled. If you get caught, play along with whatever she assumes, okay? Don’t hurt her,” the coin continues, this time in Barry’s voice. 

“Sure,” she says. “Wish I knew what she’d assume, but sure.” 

“And if Lucy catches you,” the coin says, back in her dulcet tones. “Kill yourself, mmkay?” 

She sits bolt upright. “Fuckin’ hells,” she says. “What the fuck, me?!” 

Her voice keeps talking. “It won’t actually kill you, I promise! Cross m’heart, hope t’die, you’ll be fine! You’ll be totally fine! But y’gotta keep Lucy from getting you, babe, you’re more important than you know. And erm, you’ve got some _stuff,_ that’ll kick in if you start to off it.” 

“It won’t hurt,” Barry’s voice says. “You’ll be fine. Trust us,  -͞_̶͠͏ .” 

“Fuckin’ hells,” she says again, staring at the coin in her hand, the coin that just told her that suicide was a better option than capture. She wants to live, she thinks, and she would take life over her memory. But the coin says she’ll live. It’s her life, though, that she’d be gambling with. 

 

14\. 

The orb lands, and the door hisses open. There’s no more time to think about what she’s going to do. She steps out of the ship, into a huge hangar. 

“Oh, hey man, you’re back early,” a man sitting with a magazine says. “What’s goin’ on?” 

“Just forgot a piece of magic junk, just gonna grab it real quickie, and I’ll be gettin’ outta here, no sweat,” she parrots, hoping that it’s convincing. The coin had told her to keep it natural. The man nods and smiles. 

“Figured it was something like that. Right, well don’t take too long, Taako. I’m off shift in an hour and then you’ll have to wait until tomorrow for a ride back,” the man warns. 

“Cool, cool,” she says, and walks away, amazed at how easy that was. 

She exits the hanger and keeps moving. She wishes she could stop and gawk at the lawns, the buildings. All of this, on a fake moon! 

The map hadn’t warned her about how big the base would be, or that there would be so many people. She had thought that the disguise would be a one-time thing, that once she got on the base, it would be deserted. 

But nobody stops her. A couple of people give her waves and nods and “Oh hey, Taako!”s. Some others flinch away, or deliberately walk on the other side of the corridor. One guy yells at her, “Taako, you asshole, you owe me from last week!” and she waves a hand in what she hopes is a Taako-like gesture and says “Calm down, my man, hit me up later!” and hurries away. 

She walks through corridor after corridor, and it feels wrong to be pretending to this man, it feels like something crawling under her skin. 

The Director’s office is empty. This is what the notes said would hopefully be the case. It’s a pretty normal office, she thinks. Kinda weird that the lady has a huge portrait of herself. Sorta narcissistic. There’s a door made of dark wood underneath it. She walks over to the door, and opens it. 

She hopes that whatever has the solution to her and Barry’s memories, that it’s inside. 

 

9\. 

They’re both drunk, is the thing. They had both received bonuses for stopping a robber, and the rest of the guards had taken them out for drinks, and then they went to a bar, and another bar, and another, and now they’re sitting alone on a park bench trading sips from a flask. They’re both maudlin, she thinks. If they were sober Barry wouldn’t let her curl up so close to him, probably, wouldn’t let her tangle herself around him and he wouldn’t card his fingers through her hair, he’d say something about how he doesn’t want to take advantage. But it’s stupid, because they’re supposed to be in love. She knows he likes her. She could like him too, she thinks, if she knew who she was. You have to be someone to like somebody. 

She says that, mumbles it into his ear. Barry sighs.

“You don’t need to try so hard,” he says. “You don’t have to do anything, be anything, unless you want to.” 

“What else do I fucking have?” she asks, pulling away, and oh, this is what her anger feels like, this is bubbling frustration. “All I’ve got is the coin, and you, and you feel _right,_ ” she explains. “I don’t feel like anything at all.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

“Don’t be, babe, it’s not your fault,” she says, and grins mirthlessly. “I think it’s mine.” 

 

13\. 

Sometimes it feels like all she does is wait for the coin to speak. Like a golem waiting for instructions, she thinks. Barry doesn’t seem to resent the instructions. She can’t stand them. It wasn’t so bad at first, but the months wear on her. 

And yet. The coin says jump, and she asks, how high. 

 

11.

They’re renting an apartment, pay by the month. One bedroom, kitchen, bathroom. It came furnished. Couches, table, chairs, a single queen sized bed that the two of them lie in, not touching. 

It’s been a long day, she thinks. Two shifts guarding, and a chase through the marketplace. They’re going to leave soon, if nothing happens. Just another couple of months. The coin hasn’t talked in a week and a half. She pulls back the comforter cover and slides between the sheets. Barry scoots over to make room for her. There is a half foot of space between them. 

She turns out the lights with a glowing red mage hand. Everything softens, the shadows coating everything dark and velvet. The mage hand winks out. She rolls to face Barry. He glances at her, rolls over to face her as well. He knows she wants to talk, she thinks. How does he know? How do I know that he knows? 

“Hey babe?” she says.

“Yeah?” 

"Whaddaya think I'm like?" she asks. 

The question is the mental equivalent of picking at a scab, poking at a bruise, tonguing the hole where there used to be a tooth. It’s a late-night game, a conversation for when Barry’s drinking rum and she’s drinking cinnamon whiskey and they’re playing cards at the kitchen table. Or for when they’re lying in bed, in the moments between closing their eyes and falling asleep. 

Barry doesn’t like it, she thinks. 

“Uh, I don’t think you’d be that different? It’s just memories, right? Not personality,” he says. She scowls, because he’s not answering her question. And that’s another piece of the puzzle, that she doesn’t like feeling patronized. 

“It’s easier for you,” she says. “You’ve got _something_ , at least. Most of your life, probs.” 

“I don’t know,” Barry admits. “Most of the time, it feels like, uh, I’m not missing anything, and then some guy will ask me something about like, I dunno, where I’m from, and when I say it, they look at me like I’m crazy. Maybe all my memories are fake.” 

She hadn’t thought about that. At least she can trust her own brain not to know anything with the certainty of absence. 

“Are you scared?” she asks.  

“I’m always scared,” Barry says. Simple statement of fact. She wonders how Barry can say it so calmly. “I wish we hadn’t been so vague, you know?” he continues.  

“Yeah, babe,” she says. “Me too.” 

The half-foot of space between them on the bed seems impossibly far. Barry always does this, she thinks, leaves a space between them. He always pauses before putting a hand on her shoulder, won’t sit next to her until she asks, looks at her from across the room like she’s a wonderful piece of art that is off limits. She’s suddenly frustrated. She wriggles closer to him in bed, and he stiffens. 

“Hi?” Barry says. She scowls. 

“Why don’t you touch me? You keep like, hesitating and shit. And we’re sleeping in the same bed, and you’re all the way over there,” she asks. I thought the coin said we were in love, she doesn’t say. When I talk about you in the coin it sounds like intimacy. When you talk about me it sounds like adoration. Now you circle me like a planet in orbit, never taking the initiative to come nearer. This shouldn’t bother her, she thinks. She doesn’t remember him. What he does or doesn’t do shouldn’t affect her so much. 

Barry doesn’t respond for a moment. When he speaks, his voice is hesitant. 

“I don’t want to, uh, pressure you,” Barry says. “We, whatever we did, that got rid of our memories, whatever we’ve done to ourselves. It’s, uh, it’s left you with so little. I don’t wanna, like I don’t want to take away any of your choices.”

“You wouldn’t be,” she shakes her head. “They’re choices we made, before, babe. They’re choices we’re making now. Choices that I’m makin’ now.” 

“The coin said that, uh, that I loved you,” he says, and his voice is quiet. “It said that you love me back.” 

“Yeah, so what’s the problem, boyo?”

“That’s the problem. _Said._ I don’t want it, if we’re anything, I don’t want us to be like, forced into it. I don’t want to be, uh, with you, just because some magic artifact says that we used to be in love.” And his voice isn’t so hesitant now, it’s firm and solid and she can see the edges of the man he is in the coin in it, now. “I want us, if, if we’re ever a thing, I want us to be real.” 

“It won’t be, unless you let it,” she says. 

 

3.

“Am I moving in with you?” Lup asks. She’s never shared anyone else’s bedroom before. Taako doesn’t count, she thinks. She’s technically shared more bedrooms with him than not, but he’s her brother. Barry shrugs. 

“Uh, as much as anyone can move in, uh, considering we already live on the same ship,” Barry grins. “But I’d really like it if you would?” 

“You’re gonna help me move all my stuff,” she says, smiling back because she can’t not smile, and she probably looks really stupid staring at him like this, like one of those idiots in a romcom, but she doesn’t care. He’s looking at her the same way. 

“In the morning,” he says. “I’ll do all the heavy lifting you want.” 

“Radical,” she says, and lies back on the pillows. They’d taken the ones from her and Taako’s room for cuddling purposes. Taako’s probably going to yell at her for getting gross relationship germs all over them, cause she took a couple off of his bed, too. 

Barry sits up, and she cocks her head at him. Is there anything else to be decided? She was having a nice time, nestled against him. 

“Hey,” he says. “Now that that’s settled, can I go down on you?” Oh. _Very_ nice. 

“Babe,” Lup says, already moving to take off her shorts and underwear. “You don’t even need to ask.” 

Barry eagerly helps her slip out of her underwear, pulling her waistband down, repositioning her and lifting her hips with his hands, and well, she’s going to have to wash all the pillowcases before giving them back, she guesses. The sight of his face between her legs is the best thing she’s ever seen, and then the feeling of his hot mouth against her is the best thing she’s ever felt. 

“Yes,” she says, “like that, yes, more—” 

 

16\. 

The woman is pointing the staff at her and it looks like it’s going to be something ward-y. This is a capture, she thinks. It is an arrest, not a homicide. She wonders what the Director will do to her if she’s captured. 

The coin said to kill herself. What if the coin is lying? 

But she is not thinking about death, right now. She is thinking about Barry, instead, she is thinking about the months they have spent together. The long nights. The quiet hours. The way his face scrunches up when he laughs. How he sometimes forgets to be hesitant. How he looks at her like she is something extraordinary. The way his voice in the coin tells her he loves her. That other people love her. The Director told her she loved her, she thinks. The light at the end of the Director’s staff glows brighter.

She thinks about her coin-self. The reassurances, the instructions, the naked joy in her voice when she laughed at coin-Barry. There’s a whole other history that she can’t remember and all of it leads to the woman in the coin, who says love like it’s easy. She could hate that woman, she thinks. She has listened to that woman for all her known life, she’s followed her instructions to the letter. The woman said to trust herself. 

What does she want? she thinks, and the staff glows brighter and it’s do or die, action or reaction. There’s never enough time, she thinks, exasperated. 

She raises her hand, and —

 

18.

She kills her husband. 

Lup does it easy, painless, she stops his heart with a spell while he’s getting ready for bed. He looks at her like she’s something out of a nightmare. “Sorry, sorry, sorry babe,” she says tenderly, “It’ll be quick, I promise. Shh.” 

Barry’s body dies. His soul flips up out of his body, red robe and bone to match hers, and he says, “Oh!” and reaches for her, and she reaches for him, and their embrace is all fabric and energy and she can’t feel anything, but this is the most she’s felt in months, this is a heart overflowing. 

“I missed you,” Lup says. “and you were right there. And I wasn’t.”

Barry doesn’t say anything, just clings to her as desperately as she’s clinging to him. 

**Author's Note:**

> hmu @[anonymousalchemist](http://anonymousalchemist.tumblr.com/).  
> liner notes [here!](http://anonymousalchemist.tumblr.com/post/164374187727/liner-notes-the-matchstick-still-burning)  
> and [here!](http://anonymousalchemist.tumblr.com/post/164445777667/external-phylacteries-liner-notes-p2-aka-lup)  
> and, aw jeez, fuckit. tell me whatcha thought, cause boy, i dont even know about this one. 
> 
> ...thanks for reading! xoxo
> 
> ((EDIT FROM AN HOUR LATER: in retrospect this sounds like i am fishing for compliments which was not my intention but you know what, im gonna stand by mistakes))


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